Not My Cup of Coffee!
by NihonBara
Summary: Just some drabbles that go nowhere and show little moments about America. Today's update is "Olympic Gold!" Arthur Kirkland, former gold medal champion of the 200 m backstroke, fails to defend his title against the obnoxious American git, Alfred Jones. But this day isn't over yet and he just might strike Olympic gold in a most unexpected way...
1. The Always Forgotten North

England always forgot about Canada, often mistaking the boy for America.

America always forgot Canada was north of him. Every few years he would go one a question to "discover" this fabled land of the North. France would mock both of them for this, but they'd just ignore France and assume it was more "perverted" ramblings.

A deeper look, however, revealed where this might have started. Canada and America were about as different as "black" and "clear" even from childhood. From the moment England found America the boy was everywhere, zipping all over the place and running through walls like they were tissue paper. His strength was frightening and England really needed to calm the boy down. The boy never stayed still. You could blink and the boy would be off on his latest "adventure".

Canada, on the other hand, could be left to his studies and his toys. You could disappear for days and come back to find him right there as before. A sad truth is that well-behaved children are easily forgotten and taken for granted.

Take Christmas for example, England gave Canada a delicate tea set that the boy took excellent care of. Then he gave America one of his countries more modern inventions what they called a "bicycle". Within a day America had crashed into a house and taken it apart, determined to see how the gizmos work and make it better.

"Except this time I'm going to make with wings so it can fly!" He piped to England who just groaned. The boy was always taking things apart. He always wanted to explore and invent something new.

"Why can't you be more like...," England trailed off, "Where is your brother?"

"Who?" Alfred said, covered from head to toe in grease.

"How did you?" England said, gesturing at the boy who somehow had become filthy within two seconds. "Just incredible! Absolutely incredible!" England griped, grabbing a rag he spit into it to wipe a protesting America's face.

"Ew gross!" America cried, running away.

"America stop that!" By the time, England did get to America, luring him down with the promise of food, England had forgotten all about Canada again.

Sometimes Canada would walk by England's room and here the man muttering in his sleep, saying, "No... America... no... put that down. Put it down! AMERICA!"

Canada would just sigh. One time he tried to be bad. He planned the worst thing he could think of. He said, "These scones are really yuc-"

_BAM! _America threw the door open, knocking loose a clock on the wall that landed with a _thunk_ on Matthew's head. "England! You won't believe what I just heard from France."

"You were talking to the frog?" England griped, stomping over.

Meanwhile, Canada laid on the floor, staring at the ceiling. _A crowbar couldn't separate those two. _After that day, Canada started hanging out with France._  
_

**AN**

Just a drabble. Nothing more.


	2. The Sunflower Fairy

A winter fairy named Ivan was going about his business of spreading the frost throughout the forest when he stumbled upon a most unusual and beautiful sight. A yellow flower that was closed up and growing where it had no business growing.

_It shouldn't be here_. This was a summer plant in violation of its allotted seasonal time, but still was the most breathtaking thing Ivan had ever seen. Floating down onto one of its leaves, his slippered feet touched down, and he adjusted his scarf, tucking in his white wings with sparkling blue veins.

"Amazing," He said, wondering if he should tell General Winter. He poked at one of the petal and backed up quickly as the whole thing quivered and slowly the petals peeled back, opening one by one.

Curious, he fluttered up and saw inside a most unusual fairy curled up among the pollen stems. A boy with gold-colored hair. He wore a brown jacket that looked woven of animal fur - squirrel perhaps - and green leaves fashioned into pants. He wore no shoes. He had blue eyes like the sky.

"Ah, man," The boy groaned, stretched and yawning, he sat up and blinked at Ivan. His eyes widened and he yelled, "DUDE! ARE YOU A WINTER FAIRY?"

Ivan floated up, wary of this strange thing. "Are you a summer fairy?" He asked. He had met Spring and Fall fairy before, but never the Summer. Their season were forever separated from Winter. "You are in viol-."

"OH MAN THIS AWESOME! I TOLD GILBERT IT WOULD WORK!" Alfred said, jumping to his feet. "Check this out!" He said jerking a thumb behind his back as his wings, clear with golden veins, fluttered open. "Nice, right?" He nodded.

"How is this possible?" Ivan asked. "Summer Fairies should be asleep."

"We should, but see my buddy Arthur - huge grouch if you ask me - had this potion and well I drunk it so that my flower would sprout in Winter and I would wake up now!"

"Why?" Ivan asked.

"Because we needed to meet! Man, Summer fun is here ~!" Alfred cried, a icy wind blew and he hugged himself. "Damn, it's cold. Oh well, your hero will fix that."

Ivan sighed. It would be a long Winter.


	3. Left Hanging

**Left Hanging**

"America! Come out here for a bit!" England called.

_Oh no!_ America thought, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he set the last teacup upside down on his pyramid of teacups. He was getting ready for his magic trick and had used England's prized China that for some reason big brother kept locked in a glass cabinet in his private study. What a boring way to display it!

"There," America said proudly. All thirty of England's proudest and most delicate teacup were now stacked in a pyramid on the Sitting Room's coffee table with a white tablecloth underneath. America was going to demonstrate a magic trick he learned where you yank the cloth out with out knocking over the cups. He'd never done it before, but he was America and he didn't need to practice. What could go wrong?

Racing over to the door, he trailed off, "Engwand, I wanna..." There was a strange boy with pale, blond hair toddling behind England in a white frock like America's. The boy had blue eyes and a droopy hair curl.

"America, this is your brother Canada," England explained, urging the other boy froward. The shy boy kept his eyes downcast, but smiled softly as his fingers played at the front of his frock.

"WAH!" America said, running out and circling the boy, looking him up and down. "He looks just like me!"

"H-Hello," Canada stammered and America was bored. "My n-name...," And America was tuning him out. _Ooh, a butterfly_, America thought, watching one flit around above. "And y-you're m-"

"Engwand, I'm hungry," America said, heading back inside with England behind him. "Oh, and I want to show you my magic trick!"

"Magic trick?" A moment later England cried, "My teacups! What are y- NOOOOO!"

There was a loud crashing noise like many delicate things had shattered on the floor.

"Ah, my trick didn't work," America said.

"AMERICA!" England shouted and Canada just stood outside, listening in quiet horror.

OOO

America was playing with his blocks. Well, specifically he was building a catapult for them from England's cooking supplies through which to launch them out the open window. The plan was simple: they would land in the bucket of the well, making the spigot handle go up which raise the boot that would kick the chicken that would then lay the egg. The egg would rolled down the hill and push the button that would wake the dog who would wake up and lick England's leather shoes, thereby shining them.

His plan was fool proof!

There was only one problem. This annoying buzzing sound behind him that kept saying things like, "A-America this is a bad idea. E-Engwand will be angry."

America threw out a hand behind him and swatted something soft. He turned around to see that boy from earlier on his butt, holding his nose and crying on the floor.

"Oh, you're here?" He remarked as the boy nodded. "What happened to your nose?"

The boy frowned at him and America was baffled why. _What did I do?_ The boy started making that buzzing noise again, telling Alfred not to do this and that. Alfred perked up. He had a brilliant idea to stop that noise.

OOO

"America! I'm home!" England called and found America in the sitting, playing quietly with his blocks. England scanned the room, sure there was a trick. America never sat quietly and played with his toys.

America looked up and smiled innocently. "Good evening big brother. So nice to see you!"

"All right, what did you do?" England demanded, setting his fists on his hips, he tapped a foot.

"Me?" America gasped, pointing at himself. "I was a good boy all evening. Just me and my blocks."

England's eyes narrowed and then he noticed it a soft, "Mmmph! Mmmph!" His eyes went slowly up and his jaw dropped. "Canada?" He gaped. The boy was bound to a rafter by a rope that was wrapped around his arms and torso. He had a gag in his mouth. "How in the world..."

"Well, it wasn't easy," America confessed already running for the back door for his life, liberty, and the pursuit of getting out of trouble.

"America!" England yelled in hot pursuit. "You get back here _now_!"

Meanwhile, Canada watched them from above, wishing England would untie him first.


	4. Hook, Line, and Sinker!

**Hook, Line, and Sinker!**

"Dude, they totally will!" England overheard America say as he walked by the vending machine room on his way to the conference.

"Ten Euros says you're wrong!" Prussia replied. _What's he doing here? He's not supposed to leave Germany's basement_. England frowned, listening ever so slightly.

"Euro? Dude, if we're gonna bet let's use a real currency! One hundred dollars it is!" America chirped.

Prussia snorted with laughter, "Would not be enough to wipe my ass. If we're going to make a bet, let's make it real."

"Two hundred?" England almost interrupted. This was never a good sign when those two got together. _How did he get out again?_ He stopped curious what they were planning.

Gilbert yawned loudly. "So much for the land of the brave."

"Say what? Dude, you're on. I'll up to _that_."

"Oh, that? Very well. A deal's a deal. Shake on it?"

"Shit, the conference!" America cried and England just heard him bolting for the door, when England ducked into the broom closet and heard it rattle as America whirled by. _What did those to bet on?_

He crept out and went to the world meeting.

OOO

Two hours later, during a break he was heading to his car to get something when he spotted America staring at the sky, gaping, a mixture of horror and wonder on his face. _Not the aliens again_.

England started to roll his eyes and pass by, but America gasped. "What? What is it?" England asked.

"Shhh," Alfred hissed, panic flicking across his face and started pointing at something. Now England was really curious. America encouraging silence was never a good thing. He started watching too.

Within few minutes, Russia, China, and several other nations were staring and saying in their languages, "What? What is it?"

"America, what the bloody hell is?" England demanded, trying to avoid France who had taken this as an opportunity to grope asses.

"One more minute and than you'll see," America said, counting down, "5, 4, 3..."

Everyone looked up with interest. _What could it be?_

"TWO, ONE! OH FUCK YEAH!" America said, pumping his fists and jumping around triumphantly. All the other nations exchanged confused glances.

"Fuck," Prussia cursed, coming out from behind a tree a couple meters away.

"Gilbert," Ludwig muttered, "How did you get out?"

"Fine you win," Prussia grumbled, "I'll buy you McDonalds for a month."

"Go USA! Go USA!" America chortled, dancing around.

"What the bloody hell?" England muttered, the other nations growing annoyed. "What was that about?"

"I bet you guys would fall for the point at a place in the sky trick, but Prussia here said you wouldn't be that dumb," Alfred laughed, pointing at them, "But you totally did! Like idiots!"

"Uh, America," Prussiat said, noticing the growing purple aura.

"You should have seen your faces!" Alfred continued to laugh and wipe tears out of his eyes as Russia drew his faucet pipe, China cracked his knuckles, Switzerland had his guns out, and France said to England, "Mon Cheris, we need a lorry of those god-awful scones!"

That shut America up. "Oh shit," He said and took off, Prussia not far behind him. And that was how Prussia and America found themselves running for their lives from a horde of angry nations.

**AN**

I don't if any are familiar with this, but sometimes if you and a friend just stare a place in the sky or a spot on the floor and keep whispering things, "That's amazing," or "I can't believe it". You can actually draw a crowd. Not that any of my friends ever *cough* did something so lame.


	5. How to Break Up in Russian

(This is all BS. Take nothing I say seriously.)

Most of the nations preferred to go by their human names. It made them feel more normal. Alfred was no exception. Well, he was exceptional - of course, he was America - but not in that way. He had his Starbucks coffee in one hand and a bag of Krispy Kreme donuts clutched with his mouth.

Rushing to the meeting, he turned and corner and ran full force into a wall that knocked him on his butt, spilling coffee all over him and the bag to the floor. "Dammit," he muttered, staring at his coffee stain.

"Clumsy as always America?" came a high-pitched voice that singsonged between low and high pitches.

"Russia," he grumbled, glaring up at the man. It hadn't been a wall; it had been a commie bastard. "You made me spill my coffee."

"It merely adds to the food stains on your clothes," Ivan retorted. "More donuts? Typical American, flaunting your bad diet."

"It's called a choice. Learn it, commie," Alfred said, standing up and then was shocked as Ivan stuck out his hand. He stared at it blankly for a moment.

"You will take it, da?"

_He's offering me a hand? Is there an electric buzzer in his palm or something?_ Alfred could see nothing. For some reason that even he could not explain - perhaps madness - he took it and was yanked to his feet.

"Try not to make yourself look any dumber," Russia said, patting his shoulder and then he left and a gaping Alfred remained.

_That was bizarro_. He turned around to head for the restroom when he found himself face-to-face with the bad touch trio. "Ludwig let you out?" Alfred blurted out to Gilbert who scowled.

"My dear American," Francis sighed, "Do you know what sweet beauty has just occurred?"

"Huh?" Alfred said, leaning away as the French Fop sighed.

Gilbert smirked, crossing his arms. "You twit, don't you know the Russian bastard just confessed to you?"

"What? Dude, you're nuts."

"Trust me that's how they say "date me" in Russia," Gilbert said. A frown flickered over Francis features for a moment, but he was back to smiling an instant later. Antonio just leaned against the wall, looking smug.

"You guys are full of it. Russia's many things, but he's not gay."

"Ah, you are a young nation still," Francis sighed. "You still confined love to such ideas. How sad. I will weep for you."

"You do that," Alfred said, starting to walk around them.

"Come on, we all know you two have got it going on. Such tension," Antonio said.

"Do not. Well maybe the commie likes me," Alfred admitted. _After all who wouldn't?_ "But I don't like him that way."

"Not gay?" Francis sniffed. "With all those spandex-playing sports you watch I could have been fooled. You're as gay as they come."

"Oh please. Russia doesn't like me and I'm not gay," He said, storming off.

OOO

"Oh man, he totally bought it," Gilbert laughed after Alfred had left.

"Did you just come up with that on the spot?" Antonio said.

"My awesome self did indeed."

Francis sniffed, sticking his nose up in the air, "I went along with it, but I do not approve of playing with love like that."

"There is no way Alfred believed that," Antonio said, shaking his head.

OOO

_Does Ivan like me? _Alfred could not help, but wonder now. He found himself staring at the Russian out of the corner of his eye during the whole meeting. Gilbert was full of it, but what if. There were other things.

After the meeting, he strolled right up to Russia and planted himself in front of the man, glaring at him defiantly. "Da?" Russia said, looking more amused than annoyed.

"I came to say," Alfred began, "That I understand."

Several nations started looking over and he spotted the Bad Touch Trio staring wide-eyed at the scene. "You do?" Russia asked, crossing his arm.

"Yeah, I don't blame you. You couldn't help but fall for a gorgeous guy like me," Alfred sighed, nodding with understanding, "but I'm not going to lead you on anymore. I'm just not into you like that. So you'll just have to get over your crush on me." He grinned and gave a thumbs up. There was a hush throughout the room.

Ivan just stared at him and then giggled a little his lips turning up in that weird smile of his. "Are you rejecting me?"

"Yeah," Alfred answered, trying not to roll his eyes. _Slow on the uptake, are we big guy?_

"Oh Alfred that is not how you reject someone in my country. You did this all wrong."

_Impossible. I'm America! I always have the facts straight!_ "What do you mean? How do you do it?"

"Like this," Ivan answered and then he grabbed Alfred by his bomber-jacket and locked their lips, one of his gloved hands tangling through Alfred's hair. He tipped Alfred back and Alfred clutched the Russian's coat for support. His eyes bugged out as his mouth was thoroughly kissed.

He heard England faint. He didn't know how, but he just knew it was him. Cameras clicked all around and there were "oohs" and "ahhs". Then Ivan dropped him and giggled "That is how it is done."

After Russia walked off, Alfred just laid there, staring at the ceiling. Other nations, including the Bad Touch came over. "Are you all right?" Someone asked. "Did he p-poison you?" Someone else suggested.

Alfred turned to Gilbert and asked, "How do you say 'marry me' in Russian?"


	6. The Missing Member

**The Missing Member**

"I swear someone is missing," England insisted. "Look there are only seven of us here."

"Nah, that's everyone," Alfred said.

"Then why do they call it the G8?" England asked. The other members grumbled and nodded in agreement.

"Dude, the answer is obvious," America replied, "This is one of those metric conversion thingies. G7 becomes G8."

"You stupid git!" England snapped, "This has nothing to do with the metric system that you refuse to embrace, might I add!"

America chuckled, "My system works just fine."

"Really? How many fluid ounces are in a gallon?" England asked, crossing his arm.

"Enough to make a gallon," America responded with a grin and England rolled his eyes.

"England is right," Germany chimed in. America frowned. "Someone _is_ missing, but who?"

Russia giggled from the side, smirking darkly, he said in a high-pitched voice, "_Da_, someone is missing. In the meantime, I must say I love the new chairs."

Everyone exchanged worried glances, but Russia continued, "I especially love the way mine keeps softly pleading, '_Move...please...move. Maple...I'm dying..._'."

Everyone shivered and Germany coughed. "Um... the meeting," he said and they went ahead with it.

The mystery of the missing nation remained unsolved, but Russia continued to remark throughout it on the delicious pleas and groans of pain his chair kept making and how comfy it was.


	7. 2P Hetalia Without the Psychos!

**2P Hetalia Without the Psychos!**

(Okay so I mainly went with the idea of opposite characteristics which don't translate to psychos to me. Just my opinion. Enjoy.)

England knew something was up when he entered the World Meeting and did not see America in the center of the room prattling on about another of his "brilliant" ideas. Instead, he saw most of the nations crouched down and staring at something under the table.

"Oh England thank goodness your here," Southern Italy said. England smirked. Finally, they were recognizing his importance. He frowned noticing a soft sobbing coming from under the table.

"AMERICA!" Germany yelled, slamming a fist on the table. "YOU GET OUT FROM UNDER THERE RIGHT NOW! WE H-."

"Germany!" The others yelled and flinched as the sobbing got louder. _Did I hear that right?_ "We just got him calmed down."

"What the bloody hell is going on?" England asked, moving through the semi-circle of people, he dropped down and saw something he thought he'd never see. America huddled up in a ball under the table, surrounded by several mounds of tissues, softly sobbing and blowing his nose into one after the other. "Git?"

"E-England?" He thought he heard, but the git spoke so softly, England had to crane forward to hear.

"What prank is this?" England asked.

"I do not know. When I came in Germany had tried to drag America out from under there, but that just had America more upset and talking about how he was too depressed for sunshine." Japan explained.

"What?" England said, staring closer. What was up with America's coloring. _Did he dye his hair a darker color? Why's his skin so pale? He was always tan._ "Git! Get out of there right now!"

America sniffled harder, burying his face in his knees.

"I say we throw the table off him and tie him to his chair," Russia giggled, his eyes lighting up as he tapped his pipe against his other palm. Everyone shuddered and shook their heads.

"France went to get McDonalds. We hope to lure him out, aru," China said.

"Shh," Poland said, listening closely. "He's saying something.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry you guys," America stammered. "I just get so n-nervous. I'm not confident around others." Everyone just gaped and had a mutual expression of _did we just hear that right?_

"Okay, joke is over, gi- I mean America. Come out of there. I'll cook for you," he offered, ignoring the groans behind him and how the other nations whispered, "Don't frighten him worse."

"R-Really?" America said, perking up. "But everyone always wants your food. Y-you never have extra for me." Then America's face crumpled and he sobbed again, "Nobody likes me."

_Everyone always wants your food_. That remark reverberated in his head and England swore he could feel the beam of light breaking through the ceiling. _Finally someone understands!_

The other nations just gaped in horror.

England frowned. A thought occurred to him. _Does this have anything to do with the spell I cast last night? _He hadn't thought it worked. He had only meant to tap into an alternative universe and...

_Oh no._

**Meanwhile, in 2p Hetalia...**

America threw open the conference doors with a bang. "YO, YO, YO MOTHERFUCKERS! YOUR HERO IS HERE!"

Everyone just stared at him. Some looked bored and other looked stunned. _Why are they all weird colors? Did Russia get a tan? _

"Hey, where's Germany?" America asked, coming over to Southern Italy who was sat stiffly in his chairs, palms classed together. He looked at America coldly. "Speaking of which, what are you doing here so early?"

"You do know you are an hour late," Southern Italy said primly, his paperwork neatly laid out in front of him. His blue uniform spotless. He eyed America's clothing and sniffed. "You're so unkempt today. I'm surprised you came at all. I thought you had slept in like Germany always does."

"Germany sleeps in?" America said then grinned and laughed. "C'mon. He's usually two hours early."

"We are lucky if he is only two hours late if he even shows up at all. All the lazy coward does is sleep," Southern Italy said, staring down at America. He turned away. "Now if you will excuse me I have work to do. The table is over _there_. I expect you will spend the meeting crying under it."

"Uh, dude, America doesn't cry," He protested, but Southern Italy was completely tuning him out as he studied his paperwork. _Riiight._

His attention was diverted by Lativa who was tall, shouting at Russia who was knelt on the ground, polishing Lativa's boots. "Dammit Russia! You used the wrong fucking polish." Lativa stood up and with his boot shoved Russia over. "Make yourself useful and get me a coffee and try not to fuck it up this time," Lativa fumed.

"Y-Yes, Mr. Lativa," Russia said meekly, keeping his head bowed as he scurried out. He didn't even make contact with America as he went. _No purple aura?_

Russia ran head-first into Lithuania who was just entering and caused the nation to spill coffee over himself. "I-I'm so sorry," He stuttered.

To America's shock, Lithuania chucked the paper cup on the floor and grabbed Russia by the front of his coat, dragging him up. "What the fuck, Russia? Was the last ass-kicking not enough for you?"

"S-sorry Mr. Lithuania, sir," Russia said. Double the shock was how sloppily Lithuania was dressed. The nation who was usually so clean and proper had stains all over and his hair looked unwashed. "I'll clean your shirt."

"I don't give a shit about clean. Wh-."

America's attention was turned away when he heard an ear-splitting, "AAAAAAAMMMMMMMERIIIIICAAAAA!" He whirled around just as Japan launched himself at America's chest knocking them both to the ground. His eyes just widened as Japan hugged him tightly, nuzzling against his chest. "MY FAVORITE NATION CAME. THIS IS SO AWESOME! I HAVE SO MUCH TO TELL YOU!"

_Huh?_ Japan just sat on him, grinning ear to ear as he prattled on about this and that.

"Uh... Japan?" America tried to interject, but Japan just flickered from emotion to emotion as he expressively told all about his day and how he felt when he saw this and that and his favorite TV shows. "You're kinda talkative."

Japan paused at that and then snorted with laughter, "Of course, silly! Oh I brought you a box of tissue so you don't run out again like last meeting." America frowned.

"I don't cry. I'm n-.."

"CHIIIINNNNNAAA!" Japan yelled, taking off, he threw himself around the other Asian nation who happily hugged back.

"Did you see Russia, aru?" China asked, looking around. He looked predatory almost and America raised an eyebrow.

"Oh he went off with Lithuania. You need to stop stalking him," Japan chuckled.

"But he is mine, aru," China said, "Whatever he beliefs." China smirked darkly and then almost seemed to creep out of the conference room. "I shall visit him."

"Ah, Canada is that you?"

America looked over his shoulder to see England with a tray of cupcakes. _Huh?_ "I'm America!"

"Who?" England said, tilting his head in confusion. He shrugged, smiling widely. "Everyone I made cupcakes! I know I'm not a good co-"

There was a mad scramble of nations running from all over the room and America just managed to get out of the way as they encircled, clamoring for a cupcake. "Oh my God! These are amazing!" Japan said, stuffing two in his mouth, crumbs falling down the front of his shirt as he seemed to be trying to inhale them. Southern Italy remained seated at the conference table, looking furious and yelling how there was work to be done.

"Can we get to business?" He demanded, but everyone ignored him, raving about England's food. There was yelp and Northern Italy yelled at Japan and England, "Will you to stop grabbing my ass! Keep your hands to yourself!"

"I can't help it. Why deny ourselves?" England answered with a lewd grin.

America scrambled backward until the back of his head hit the wall. _What is going on? _

"He is so lucky," said a soft, lonely, almost desolate voice. America's head whipped to his left and he realized France was seated there.

"Did you dye your hair?" America asked.

"I wish," France said. "Nobody ever eats my cooking. It just tastes dreadful."

"But your cooking is great," America said.

"Really? You are the first to think so," France said. "I am surprised your not under the table crying again."

"I don't cry!" America insisted. _Why does everyone say I do?_ "Yeah, well how come you're not groping people?"

France flinched, looking aghast. "I would never be so sinful! America you know I am a devoted follower of the Lord and I believe in total celibacy. I am saving myself for my special person."

"So you are...a virgin?" America said and France blushed, hiding his face. He nodded.

America burst out of the conference room, running for home. _That is it! I'm never trying McDonalds Texas Heart Attack Hamburger again!_

**Meanwhile, back in 1P Hetalia...**

"Come America," France said, setting down a plate of hamburgers. He wrinkled his nose and backed away while Japan used a paper fan to wave the smell to America. "We bought favorite."

"That smell...," America gasped, pinching his nose. "It's awful. Ugh... is that your cooking, France?"

"I beg your pardon!" France huffed, offended.

"Flip the table and tie him to the chair, da ~," Russia giggled again. Some like Germany were nodding in agreement. Southern Italy just slept in his chair, snoring softly.

"I hate... hamburgers," America sobbed.

_Shit_. Arthur sighed, rubbing the back of his head. It was going to be a long meeting. _I'm staying away from magic from now on._


	8. The Summoning of Villain America!

**Summoning Villain America**

(Another little take on the 2p Hetalia except this time they're little kids when they meet. 2P America dreams of being the world's greatest villain and he offers 1P Canada lucrative benefits if he'll be his minion.)

"This will be amazing!" America said, thumbing through the pages of England's book. England had left him in charge for a few weeks while the British Nation was back in his land or so that's how America saw it.

"A-America," said a soft voice. He looked up, but couldn't see anyone. He went back to his book. "T-this is a bad idea." There it was again.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

"Canada."

"Canada, who?" He asked, looking up at the tree canopy.

"You're brother."

"I'd think I'd remember if I had a brother," America laughed. A hand slapped down on the spell book. _Ghost!_ He nearly jumped back at the sight of a boy in front of him that looked like him.

"A-America! It's me Canada!"

"Oh when did you get here?" America asked. Canada sighed. "Look at the awesome spell circle I made!" He gestured from England's book of dark magic that he found just lying around - aka under a hidden floorboard behind a secret bookcase in England's office . "I'm casting magic."

The spell circle on the book was now on the ground in the form of a large circle.

"Y-You shouldn't play with big brother's book." Canada said. "He told us not to."

"I don't remember that," America said, reading over the chant. "Now help me out. We're going to cast an awesome spell."

"You can read that? It's all scribbly."

"Yup," America said, holding up a crumpled piece of paper. "Engwand kept his translation nearby and I hear him chanting sometimes. What could go wrong? Now help me chant."

OOO

It had gone horribly wrong. Both America and that other guy were lying flat on their back staring at well what looked like America. Except this America had a sinister smirk and was wearing all black. He looked about their age which in human years would have been eight.

This America had brownish hair and all his clothes were black. He stroked some kind of white puff creature.

"So, where is this?" The other America asked, studying his surroundings. "And why do you look like me?"

"I'd ask you the same thing," America said, picking himself up. He grinned. "I'm America. Soon to be the greatest hero ever."

The other America looked at his hand like a diseased thing and said, "I'm America too. Soon to be the greatest _villain_ ever."

"Villain?" America cried. "Who would choose that?"

"A mastermind like myself would," The other America answered. "You don't look very bright. You obviously wouldn't understand."

America frowned. "I think I'd better send you back."

"No," The other America said, stepping out of the spell circle that was still smoking. "I like it here and mochi does too." He stroked his mochi.

"You have a pet? Cool!" America said, running up, but the moment he tried to pet it the thing bit him. He jumped back holding his hand.

"Amerimochi does not like anyone but me touching him. Tell me are you the only one here?"

"No, there was ...um...," he looked around. _Someone else? _"My sidekick was here."

"I'm not your sidekick," came a voice. Both Americas looked around before villain America set his eyes on something standing between them.

"Canama! There you are," Hero America laughed. "Back me up!"

"No," Villain America said, setting a hand on Canada's shoulder. "Be my minion. I'll make it worth your while."

"Hey hands off my sidekick!" America said, grabbing Canada's other arm. Soon a tug-of-war broke out.

"Let me go!" Canada cried weakly.

"He wants to be a sidekick!"

"No, he clearly wants to be a minion. I pay dental," Villain America offered and Canada took on a considering look.

"Don't buy into his evil lies! Heroes and sidekicks help others out of the goodness of their hearts."

"Please," Villain America rolled his eyes. "And make nothing. Come on. Think of the babes."

"I-I'm a kid," Canada answered.

"Think of the babes that will one day like you! Girls like bad boys! Join the dark side and rule the world with me!" Villain America said.

"He doesn't want to!" Hero America said.

"Does to!"

"Does not!"

"Does to times infinity!"

"Does to times infinity plus infinity!"

"B-Both of you!" Canada cried and it was finally broken up when his polar bear bit villain America's leg and he cried out, falling back into the spell circle. Canada wasted no time, squeaking out the chant and in a flash of light villain America disappeared.

"Man! Great job sideki-" America was interrupted when the book went splat in his face. "My nose!" He said and spotted Canada stalking off. _What's he angry about? I just saved the world_. "Hey wait!"


	9. Olympic Gold!

**Olympic Gold!**

He did it! He touched the wall and nearly passed out from a combination of adrenalin and exhaustion. _Did I... _Arthur Kirkland yanked down his goggles, eyes searching the scoreboard above the pool and his heart dropped.

_ALFRED JONES - USA - 1_

_ARTHUR KIRKLAND - GBR - 2_

_I lost_. This was supposed to be Arthur Kirkland's glorious final swim. The final gold medal to his third and final Olympics at the the thing he triumphed the most in: the 200 M backstroke, but it had been swiped from him by the new, young, nineteen year old American in the next lane who was hooting, "WOOOOOOH! U-S-A! U-S-A!"

It didn't help that there were a lot of Americans in the crowd joining the chant.

_It's silver. That's still good_, he tried to comfort himself, glancing as the American pulled himself out of the water, droplets falling in rivulets of that toned figure. _Oh God, this sport is dangerous to gay men_. It didn't help that he was somewhat attracted to the American, hell half the swimmers here. He really should not have chosen swimming as his life profession if he were gay. If you got an erection, the world would know.

That had never been a big problem before since Arthur Kirkland excelled in discipline, but this American had tested his patience.

Trying to smile and look happy, he eventually made his way to the second place podium where the American continued to fist pump and posed for the photographers. Then the US national anthem played as the flags were lowered and the medals awarded. More photos were taken, several of Arthur since this was his country and the crowd cheered and roared, waving the Union Jack as he waved at them.

Still his smile was cracking a bit, as he thought of how this was his last 200 M backstroke ever in an Olympics. He was too old to compete for another and _his_ medal had been taken by that obnoxious git by a mere half a second.

#

It turns out most of the US team had medaled in swimming. They celebrated in the dining hall of the Olympic village and the game area, pretty much everywhere and the Brazilians joined them because, '_hey who doesn't love a party?_' one remarked. Arthur left around the time the other athletes now joined by ones from other nations started whispering about how to sneak some booze in.

Arthur sniffed and stalked off to his room. He wanted to just say it was the Americans, but the Germans, the Australians, and most of _his_ country's team mates were all joining in on the fun. The Olympic Village would live up to its reputation for hooking up and partying more than the Beijing it seemed.

Arthur paused in the hallway to look back in the gaming/ party room and see Alfred being carried by his team mates. He was laughing and grinning ear to ear, while they cheered him on.

_Stupid git_.

#

Arthur tossed and turned that night. His room mate, Peter Kirkland who was in men's gymnastics, had not returned yet. Not that Arthur cared about that. He just felt restless. He had more swims tomorrow, but it was the git he couldn't get off his mind - that stupid smile. _Bloody hell, wrong sport._ He rolled over another fantasy threatening to creep into his head. He had already masturbated in the bathroom to the git's image, imagining him going down on Arthur.

He groaned. Usually his fantasies during Olympics had a variety of cast members from the German to the Swedish guys, but this Olympics it was all Alfred. From the moment he first seen the kid on TV, being touted as the USA's big champion. _How big?_

He shook his head and got up. Tired of cold showers, he decided to head down to the gym equipment. Nobody should be there at this hour. He left his UK apartments, keeping to the sidewalks, heading to the main building when he heard a groan. He nearly jumped out of his skin. _Someone's passed out_, he thought, rolling his eyes.

Curious who it was this time and what idiot has sneaked in booze past security, he approached the bushes that were thick between two buildings only to see by the full moon none other than Alfred F. Jones. The Olympiad was laid out spread eagle with his pants down and his T-shirt rolled up. For a wild moment, Arthur wondered if the boy had been assaulted and then he realized what a stupid idea that was.

First off, it would take a pretty powerful person to do that and what Olympiad here would be dumb enough to risk getting thrown out for that body. Arthur swallowed, realizing as he studied Alfred's tone figure that it might be worth it.

_No, stop being daft. _Still, he crept closer until he was kneeling beside the boy. He could smell some alcohol. _Evidently they did find liquor_, but why is he here alone?

_"_Git," Arthur said, prodding Alfred, slightly caressing the boy's side with his forefingers. He had been curious. He shivered at how toned the boy was. "Are you all right?"

Alfred groaned and his eyelashes fluttered open. "Wha?" Alfred said, blinking and holding himself on his elbows. "What happened? Where's the... chick?"

_He likes girls_, Arthur's heart faltered a bit. He had suspected, but hope spring eternal.

"Gone by the looks of it," Arthur said, glancing around.

"Artie? Is that you?" Alfred slurred, sinking back down, he massaged his temples. "When did you become Hungarian?"

"I didn't you twit."

"But if you're not a she," Alfred paused as if trying to think his words. _Not working for him_. "Then where did she go?"

"Who?"

"The Hungarian chick. She promised to give me a blow job if I made out with the Austrian guy."

"You made out with a man?" Arthur said, his mouth going drying. "You're bisexual?" He winced at what he'd blurted out.

"For good-looking dudes, hell yeah!" Alfred said, fist-pumping again. He peered up at Arthur. "You're pretty hot. I'd be gay for you."

Arthur blushed. "Y-you idiot! You're drunk."

"As a skunk," Alfred agreed, flashing a grin. Suddenly, he was up on his knees, leaning up toward Arthur who was petrified as those lips came for his, but Alfred missed and kissed his chin instead, making out with that.

_That git_. _"_Alfred," Arthur said, pulling Alfred away. "You're mistaking me for someone else."

"No, I'm not," Alfred said, his face looking a tad hurt. _Maybe a trick of the light_. "You're the reason I came here. That and my awesome talent."

"Me?"

"I grew up watching you in the Olympics. You were the shit," Alfred said. "I wanted to be you. I wanted to beat you. And then, I wanted to fuck you."

Time stopped and Arthur's heart skipped several beats. He couldn't make a peep, only stay there crouched as Alfred leaned in for a second kiss and this time got it right - mostly he got more lips than cheeks though. Arthur panted into the kiss though, loving the taste of Alfred even if there was some rum in there.

_We shouldn't_. He tried to tell himself, but then he was being pushed toward the grass and Alfred was on his lap, rutting against him like a dog in heat and Arthur's mind was spinning as he explored that body with his hands.

_Oh, we shouldn't but..._

_It is my final Olympics_.

Arthur Kirkland had finally found Olympic Gold.


End file.
